Things Must First Unravel
by nancystagerat
Summary: Wicked, obviously. A showfic this time: Follows the events of the show from just after Wonderful up to and hopefully beyond the ending. Chapter 5 up.
1. Chapter 1

Satisfaction.

She's almost forgotten what that feels like, until now.

Elphaba looks at the monkeys, a smile in her eyes as she watches them fly away out the huge windows of the chamber, shrieking out happily in animal joy; finally, a small success. One, though, Chistery, the one the Wizard tricked her into granting wings, flaps closer to her and touches down near her feet. Her smile widens somewhat and he tugs lightly at the edge of her skirt.

"Go, fly! Chistery, you're free now, isn't it wonderful?" she says, pausing briefly to scratch the fur on his head. He looks away in the direction of the hallway. Her gaze follows the monkey's, and she catches sight of another monkey, blindly bumbling his way through the room, entangled in a sheet. It makes Chistery uneasy, but Elphaba doesn't take it the same way, like the monkey was hoping she would. He'd rather not be too close to it, and so he takes to the air, touching down on one of the Wizard's machines that powers the booming voice in the head of 'the great and terrible Oz'.

"Hello, what have we here?" she says, smiling just a bit in the sheet's direction. The clumsy animal underneath trying to make its ungainly way across the room amuses her a little. Leaving Chistery, she makes her way over to the 'monkey', and gently searches for the edge of the cloth to pull it off.

"No, please, you don't want to –" the Wizard calls from a little way away, but she doesn't hear him. She's too pleased with what she's just done; it's the first time she's felt this way in a long time, and she wants to enjoy it, if only for a very little while. She extricates the struggling thing from the sheet, and Doctor Dillamond emerges, shaking himself off. He blinks a few times, getting used to the light again, and looks up at her blankly, indifferently.

"No…it can't be…" she says quietly, her expression quizzical. She's never seen Dr. Dillamond on all fours before. She can't comprehend why he's acting so strangely. She wants to know what's going on, but at the same time she's afraid of what, exactly, might be the answers to the questions in her gaze.

"Elphaba, we just couldn't keep letting him speak out…" says the Wizard, trying to appeal to her reason. She shoots a glare in his direction and turns back to the Goat; she doesn't want to hear it, not now.

"Doctor Dillamond, are you alright?" she asks, bending her knees some to bring her face to the same level as the Goat's. He shies away a little, taking a few small, nervous steps backward. "No, don't be afraid. It's me, Elphaba."

The doctor bleats and lifts up a hoof, making to take another step.

"Don't you remember me?" The Goat looks to the side quickly, and then back to Elphaba. She doesn't want to believe what she now knows to be true, and looks for a way to falsify her conclusions, hoping with all her heart that she's wrong.

"Can't you speak?"

Dr. Dillamond remains on all fours and bleats again. That's not a sound Elphaba remembers hearing from the Goat. He would never do such a thing voluntarily. She should know; she'd spent so much time with him back at school. He'd been her only friend for a long time. He used to pride himself on his knowledge, on his impeccable speech, on being an Animal. Her eyes dart quickly to the Wizard and then back to Dr. Dillamond. Understanding begins to dawn in her mind. The creature looks up at her through vacant expressionless eyes. There is no recognition there. They are the eyes of nothing more than a goat.

He doesn't remember her.

He doesn't remember anything…

Elphaba is horrified. She turns her face back to the Wizard, who gives her a look that seems to be saying, _:I told you you didn't want to take off that sheet.:_

_He's_ done this to the poor thing…he'll continue doing things like this to all the Animals of Oz… She shakes her head as if trying to ward off the truth. She is ashamed of the fact that she had once believed in that man so fervently. It's clear to her now that he stands in the way of everything she believes in, defies her and acts as if she's the one who's been doing things wrong in only trying to help the innocent. She knows him now to be nothing but manipulative and cruel, willing to persecute and repress and break the spirits of creatures exactly like him in most every feature except body shape. As long as the Wizard remains in power, there can never be such a thing as the equality and acceptance she craves for Oz.

The thought that she almost agreed to help him, and was even willing to become his _colleague_, sickens her like a physical disease eating away at her stomach.

She hates him. She will hate him for the rest of her life.

Slowly she backs away from the goat, gradually raising herself to stand upright and put her face on the same level as the Wizard. Her eyes narrow slightly, fix themselves on his. Her posture is at once both defiant and defensive. Her fists clench so tightly the nails dig into her palms and draw blood. Rage boils beneath her skin, claws its way into her throat and mouth, forming words there she cannot not hold back, and probably wouldn't have kept to herself even if she could've done so.

"We have nothing in common." she begins. Her voice wavers with the herculean effort of trying to keep it under control.

"I am nothing like you and I never will be…" Anger is taking her over. She fights harder to keep charge of herself, wipes the blood off her hands with her skirt. Her eyes blaze, boring into the Wizard's. She relishes the uneasiness growing on his face, and embraces the hatred coursing through her, enveloping her in its searing heat.

"And I will fight you until the day I die!" In her passion there is power. The goat between her and the Wizard backs away from them, looks from left to right in alarm and runs off, hooves clattering down the hallway; she has frightened the creature that was once a beloved teacher and friend. She feels sorry for it, empathizes, and inwardly wants nothing more than to cry for the goat that has lost so much. But right at this moment, tears, even tears cried for a friend, are not her top priority. Right now she means to go on upsetting the Wizard.

She likes this feeling of power; it makes her reckless.

Elphaba intends to make sure that he will never hold sway over her again. A slow predator's grin spreads over half of her mouth, tilting one side up into a half smile. She would gladly tear this man's throat out if it'd mean that the vindictive act would put a stop to his ruining any more lives.

Though she does not know it, he'd certainly ruined hers before it had even been granted to her.

Suddenly, the fear that had been accumulating in the Wizard's expression seems to melt away from him, and something like triumph enters into his eyes. For a split second it confuses her, and that's the only chance he needs to break himself free of her confining gaze. She watches him, as of yet unwilling to give chase. There are only so many places in the chamber he can run to.

He climbs into the huge golden head in which he'd first appeared to her, and through the magnified voice lent to him by the contraption, calls for his guards.

Elphaba's blood runs cold; she'd forgotten completely about that. She hasn't anticipated anything like this. The power she'd been feeling leaves her completely and she backs off, looking over her shoulder in a newfound panic like the goat she'd scared off a moment or two ago, embarrassed that she's let her guard down like this. She is helpless now.

The guards pound down the hallway, burst into the room – and the leader of the murderous little pack stops dead in his tracks. He looks at Elphaba with a gaze that holds something like pleased disbelief, glances from her to the Wizard, and almost smiles at her before returning his face to a soldier's tough, businesslike countenance. She doesn't know whether to be relieved and overjoyed or to fear for her life at the sight of the familiar face, his figure bedecked in the resplendent and decorated green uniform of the Captain of the Guard.

"Are you alright, Your Ozness?" Fiyero asks the Wizard, but still he repeatedly glances back to Elphaba. She cautiously calls out his name, trying to have faith that he'll not reject her, even as she is surrounded by most of his Gale Force comrades.

"I don't believe it…" he says, his voice going softer for an instant. She is slightly calmed.

"Oh Fiyero, thank goodness, I thought you were -"

"Silence, Witch!" he yells, with enough venom in his tone to do more than just shock her into silence. It terrifies her, robs her of much of the hope she'd gained at first sight of him.

One of the other guards says something to Fiyero about the goat-that-was-Dillamond on the lam, but he tells the guards to leave the goat alone for now to go get water, of all things, and as much as they can carry. They look at him in puzzlement, unsure of what he means. Fiyero loses patience and yells for them to just do as he says. The other guards leave; Elphaba thinks that they must be incredibly daft if they're actually going to try and carry water back here. Only Fiyero, the Wizard, and Elphaba remain in the chamber.

"Fiyero – " Elphaba says, trying to appeal to him and the friendship she hopes he still holds her in, if it's even possible for him to still think of her as a friend. Oz only knows the extent of the rumors he's no doubt been hearing about her ever since she last saw him.

"I said, silence!" he shouts back at her. The last shred of her hope bleeds away.

The Wizard, however, climbs back out of his head, yelling for Fiyero to stay away from her. She guesses that the man would probably want to keep her and use her for her magic rather than kill her, at least for a little while. She watches Fiyero advance, waits for him to take her prisoner, but is surprised when, instead, he stops the Wizard.

"Don't move, You Ozness," he says, aiming his weapon at the hapless old man, "unless you want all your guests to know the truth about the Wonderful Wizard of Oz." She sighs out her relief in a heavy rush of air; words can't begin to describe how thankful she is.

_:Wait, guests:_ Elphaba thinks briefly, before remembering the party that is going on nearby, the party she'd thought would be the perfect cover for her to slip into the Palace and free the Wizard's flock of winged monkeys, which was the only thing she'd actually succeeded in doing in a long time.

"Elphaba, I'll find Dr. Dillamond later; now get out of here." Fiyero says, jerking his head toward the door. The Wizard backs up, closer to his giant head, and Fiyero finally looks away from the man. She steps closer to Fiyero, emboldened, and speaks up.

"Fiyero, you frightened me. I thought – I thought you might have…changed." A small tentative smile plays about her lips, and he's glad to see the softer, more peaceful expression coming into her eyes, but still he recognizes a great deal of anxiety there as well. Ruefully he wishes she didn't have to be afraid. He's missed her, more than even he himself is willing to admit.

He matches her smile with one of his own, only it's sadder, subdued. "I have…changed," he replies, _:…though not in the way you might think.:_

The short spell of silence doesn't last long; in seconds they begin to hear the amplifying sound of heels echoing off the green marble floor and walls of the hallway. Fiyero groans to himself. This is the last thing he needs.

Glinda trips her way into the room; running on those high heels of hers does not bode well for balance. "What's going on…?"

She pushes a wayward curl out of her face and huffs a little, trying to get her breath back, and nearly chokes on the air when she takes in the scene in front of her.

"Elphie?" She's bewildered by the sight of her fiancé training a gun on the Wizard, but happy to see her old friend. "Oh, thank Oz you're alive!" She wants to hug Elphaba, or at least get close enough to really speak to her. She begins to cross the room, but soon she realizes exactly where they are, and stops herself mid-stride.

"Elphie, you shouldn't have come! If anyone discoverates you –"

Elphaba opens her mouth, about to explain, but Fiyero won't let her get a word in edgewise. "Glinda, you'd better go." he says, stepping closer to Elphaba, keeping his weapon on the Wizard.

"Fiyero, what are you…?" Glinda is confused.

"Please, just go back to the ball."

Glinda addresses the Wizard, hoping to get a response, and possibly the explanation she'd tried to get before. "Your Ozness, he means no disrespectation." She looks from Fiyero to his gun to the Wizard. "Please understand, we all went to school together…"

"Elphaba!" Fiyero quietly calls her over. She comes, and when she gets near enough he reaches out, grabs her hand. Glinda notices; her face goes even paler than her normal porcelain shade. She doesn't understand, and it hurts her.

"What are you doing!" Elphaba whispers fiercely. She's dually afraid and intrigued by him, he who she has not seen in so long. She is a witch now – he can't actually want to risk his neck for her, can he? No, that would be too good to hope for. She tries not to let herself waste any thought on it; she can't exactly force anyone to love her. But, despite the effort, some things she can't help but want, even though she knows nothing will come of it. Then there's Glinda…she's loved Fiyero since they'd met at school years ago. And wasn't that ball outside supposed to be celebrating their engagement? What was Fiyero trying to do to her? Surely he had to care for her if he'd agreed to become her fiancé, didn't he?

"Trust me." he says, eyes both imploring and demanding that Elphaba do so. She grows nervous in the flash of a second; trust does not come easily to her, and the fact that he's already assured her he'll let her escape the palace does not exactly set her mind at rest. She's learned to mistrust those she'd once thought were friends. The Wizard and Madam Morrible have made sure of that.

"Fiyero, have you misplaced your mind?" Glinda asks, her voice escalating, disbelieving. She does not trust what her eyes seem to be showing her. Fiyero was _hers_! They were already engaged! And Elphaba – what was she doing here? What was Fiyero doing with her? Sweet Oz, had they…?

"What are you doing?" Glinda's stomach roils; she's frightened of what the answer might be.

"I'm going with her." he replies, squeezing Elphaba's hand. Glinda blanches. He wasn't honestly going to ? She doesn't understand, and it shows.

Elphaba, on the other hand, only looks from Fiyero to Glinda. She's in the dark. She doesn't really know what's happening. Everything's going so quickly, and since she's trained herself so well to turn only to herself for the answers, this lack of control frightens her. She can't tell if Fiyero really means to help her or if he's trying to lure her into a false sense of security. After all, he _is_ the Captain of the Guard. She can't afford to put it past him. And the look on Glinda's face…a happy reunion this meeting isn't. The blonde looks at her with utter revulsion on her face. Elphaba's stomach hurts; she hadn't wanted this. She hadn't known about this. She wishes fervently that she'd never come back to this place.

"Wha—what are you saying? You mean all this time, the two of you…behind my back…" Glinda stammers. Her voice crackles slightly; her throat is tightening up. Tears sting in her eyes. But no, she won't cry. She has to save face, preserve her dignity. A breakdown now won't get her anywhere.

"No, Glinda, it wasn't like that!" Elphaba cries in a sad attempt to explain. She doesn't know what to say. She knows of nothing that will get her friend to believe her. She wants to jerk herself away from Fiyero, but at the same time…she doesn't. Instead, she tightens her grip on his hand, ignoring the way her palms sting where his skin meets the tiny nail-cuts in hers. Dimly she's glad that at least they're not bleeding anymore; she didn't want to get her blood all over his hands.

"Actually it was…but it wasn't…" Fiyero says, looking from Elphaba to Glinda. This is hard for him. He'd always been able to talk his way out of things before. Why couldn't he do so now?

Glinda's face flushes with heat. He is lying to her. She's sure of it. They both are. She looks at Elphaba with anger and bitter disbelief beginning to burn through the hurt.

"Elphaba, lets go…let's go!" Fiyero says, growing desperate. They're running out of time. He pulls on her hand; he can hear the guards returning. He can't let them get to her. And…he doesn't think he can stand to face Glinda anymore. True, she is his friend, and far closer to him than the majority of the people in his life, but…he just can't make himself love her like she wants him to.

Elphaba hesitates; a short blaze of fear darts across her face and then pained indecision takes its place. Her eyes lock briefly with Fiyero; his gaze pleads with her to come with him. She hates to leave Glinda like this. It isn't the way she'd wanted to meet her friend again after so long. And now…if she escapes the palace, with Glinda's fiancé, of all people, she'll be leaving Glinda with nothing to do but to hate her, just like everyone else. Elphaba knows full well that she shouldn't go with Fiyero, but at the sight of the furious hurt on Glinda's face something inside her dies, begs her to give up on the old friendship; there will be no reconciliation. At least, not now. It reasons with her that if she remains here much longer, she'll be caught, and certainly nothing will get accomplished through that.

Reluctantly she turns her back on Glinda. Fiyero pulls on her hand again, steering her down the right hallway.

"Fine! Go! You deserve each other…" Glinda cries after their retreating backs. She draws in a shaky deep breath and gradually her composure returns. It's a good thing it does; she has to face the Wizard now. It wouldn't do for her to speak to him with her eyes all swollen and red. She pushes emotion away for the moment; she'll come back to it later, or rather, it'll keep coming back to her until she gives it some attention. Right now, she has other things to attend to before she tends to herself. After all, she 'couldn't be happier', and her people would be waiting for her to put on a brave face for them once she returns to the ball. She might as well steel herself for it now.

_:You couldn't be happier, Glinda…that's what they want to hear. You'll just have to give it to them.: _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Fiyero watches Elphaba out of the corner of his eye, taking in the tense way she carries herself, the way she is constantly looking over her shoulders, wide-eyed and skittish like a frightened rabbit, then drawing back farther within herself. He can tell she's trying not to show her fear; she's not doing a particularly good job of it. Often she glances back to his face, looking for the slightest clue to tell her whether or not she should trust him; right now, she leans far moretoward wariness than trust. It saddens him; he hates what the Wizard and Madam Morrible have done to her, but he hates ever more fervently the fact that he's made himself one of the people she must fear. She sees the uniform he wears as a glaring badge that hurts her eyes with the way it shows so blatantly how much she's lost, from freedoms to friendship and back again. Funny, he feels the same way.

Gently he nudges her with his elbow and whispers, "You can relax a little. We shouldn't run into any trouble at least until we get closer to the back exits. There's most always someone stationed at the doors leading in and out, but you might get lucky again today, what with the ball going on."

She doesn't answer. She's afraid of what might come out of her mouth if she tries.

"You could acknowledge that I exist, you know." he murmurs. She nods, averting her eyes. On the contrary, she's been all too aware of his existence. Between the events of the past half hour replaying themselves in her head and the fear clouding her mind, about the only thing she _can_ be sure of right now is his hand wrapped tightly around her own, sending a hot-and-cold shiver up her arm. It embarrasses her, and she wants it gone, but can't bring herself to pull away. She feels better when in control of herself; at least then she can feel that the situation is at least somewhat in her favor, but right this second she couldn't be any less in control. She couldn't make herself block that out, even if she'd tried with every ounce of willpower she possessed in thatslender frame of hers.

She won't look at him, no matter how much she wants to. She knows her face has been giving too much away.

Remarkably, they make it to the last corridor before the door without interruption, but just as Fiyero had feared, there was indeed one soldier stationed near it. He manages to adjust his grip on her to seem more convincing to the man on guard; hastily he wrests her arms behind her back and his grip on her wrists becomes tight and uncomfortable. In her ear he whispers an apology; he wouldn't be doing so if he didn't have to. She understands, adjusting her expression to complete the façade, and trying to have faith that his words are true.

After a few terse words with the one guard, who, by the looks of things, appears to have been filching a few too many drinks from the ball, Fiyero and Elphaba become slightly more at ease. Or, at least, Fiyero does. The door closes behind the two of them, and he can finally relinquish his hold on her. She shrinks away from him a little, still refusing to look at him. He sighs, runs his hand nervously through his hair. He doesn't know what to say. They fall into step beside each other, silent. Aside from the occasional nudge in the right direction, he does not move to touch her again.

Things pass by in a blur. Elphaba doesn't really even notice where she's going – her head continues to reel, playing and replaying the scene in the Palace. She's completely and totally disgusted and sick to her stomach with the staggering magnitude of her actions. She can't believe what she's done. She can't believe she's following Fiyero, and even less that she's let herself betray Glinda. That woman had been the first living human to accept her for what she was, and now…she's thrown it all away, like Glinda had never meant anything to her at all. To put the icing on the cake, she just so happens to be traveling with Glinda's fiancé. For all Elphaba knew, he could still very well be leading her into some sort of sick trap. All the assurances he'd made to her mean very little…and yet, at the same time, they mean more than the world. She wants so badly to trust him, but doesn't believe she'll ever be able to trust again. She has no one, and it would help to have someone on her side.

And so they walk, hastily weaving along winding back streets, just to be sure it'll be harder for any pursuers to catch up. Fiyero doesn't really know where to take her; just that it has to be somewhere she can stay long enough to wait out the furious search the Wizard will probably send out after her. He almost regrets making such a scene in the Palace, wondering if she would've been better off if he hadn't drawn so much attention to her, to the two of them. He figures that the safest -and closest- place for her right now is probably the Great Forest in upper Gillikin – it's unpopulated, and that's what she needs, a place with no one in it to jeopardize her already fragile state of existence. Where he'll take her afterwards is another story – hopefully he'll be able to buy them both some time before that needs to be determined. Bringing his elbow into the barest contact with her arm, he gently steers her in the direction he thinks is northward – to the City's one railroad station.

"Brace yourself," he whispers, "We'll be walking for a while." He hopes they'll be able to make it that far. She nods, but doesn't bother to press the subject; he's not sure if she's even heard him.

The pattern of their steps pound into a regular rhythm, lending a much-needed sense of ease to their postures after a while. It's the only thing Elphaba can consciously grasp onto as something real when nothing else seems as such.

_:The farther he gets me from the Palace, the better: _she thinks, _:no matter where I finally end up.:_ Still she refuses to focus on her surroundings; she feels a headache coming on, and besides, there's too much else weighing on her mind vying for attention.

The sun begins to set all too soon for Fiyero. They've only reached a dingy little sector on the outer edge of the Emerald City; he hadn't realized how long it would take to get even this far, what with all the meandering around they've been doing. And he realizes that he's been leading them in the wrong direction for hours; he'd taken them both eastward instead of up in the direction that would've been on a path to Shiz. The one thing he's got going for them is the fact that there's no one around. So Glinda's ball had done _something _good for him after all.

"Oh, damn…" he murmurs, tangling his fingers into his hair in frustration. Elphaba looks up finally, a question in her gaze. He doesn't want to tell her about this. She could use all the encouragement she can get, and what he's just managed to get them into couldn't be farther from that. "You might as well sit down for now – I've got to…to think about this for a minute."

'A minute' turns into a half hour. He's worried now. She, on the other hand, doesn't seem to notice the passage of time, leaning against a building, her face turned away from him again. He feels for her; he's lost things, too, through this rescue, but he can't even begin to imagine what sort of effect her own losses are having on her. Her entire life has been led in varying degrees of misery – of all people for this to happen to now, did it have to be her? He looks at Elphaba; she slides her back down the wall until she's on the ground, eyes closed, her head leaning back against the brick, still not looking at him.

He paces nervously, his mind running at a furious rate to think of _something_ to get them out of here, but it always takes him back to dwell on his mistakes. Every so often he glances back to her, and every time he does so she looks exactly the same. He gives up on the pacing and lets his back hit the wall, smacking his head against it a few times, thoroughly berating himself. Why did he always have to be so…brainless?

"Stop doing that." he hears Elphaba say, the first time she's spoken in hours, "You'll hurt yourself." But when Fiyero goes to meet her eyes, she's drawn herself back again, away from him. He wishes she would just show herself already; she doesn't have to be afraid of him – but he knows she can't open up to him, not yet. He sighs, and lowers himself to sit beside her; he feels her move away, though not from fear of him. His eyes follow her movements as she pulls herself to the side some toward a smallish tan-and black creature crouching a little ways away. He recognizes the animal as one of the Wizard's winged monkeys. It's lugging something behind itself, and Elphaba is talking softly to it, scratching and stroking its fur.

"Come on, little one," she coaxes, "What is it you've got there…" It steps a bit closer to them, holding out whatever it is it's been carrying. Her eyes light up as she takes the thing from the monkey. "My broom…how in the…? Oh, Chistery, thank you! Thank you, Chis." she murmurs to it, a small smile on her face, and she bends slightly, laying a kiss on the monkey's furry head. The creature puffs it's chest out, pleased with itself that it's been able to somewhat rescue it's own rescuer. Elphaba glances quickly at Fiyero before turning back to the monkey, still petting it with one hand and holding the broom in the other. "Well, my brave little friend, that's quite a feat you did for me. You flew with this thing all the way here?" Her smile widens when the monkey hops into her lap. Continuing to stroke its fur, she holds tight to the broom in her other hand, and she offers Fiyero a small, tentative smile. He thinks he detects an infinitesimal speck of hope in her eyes – it's not much, but it's there just the same in the way her eyes sparkle slightly, the minute smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

It takes him by surprise somewhat, and clumsily he remembers to smile back at her rather than just stare like some stupid boor, but he's too late. The moment's gone. She holds his gaze for an instant longer, but the happiness has left her eyes, and she has to look away, glancing back down at her hand on the broom. He notices that her knuckles are white, she's holding the thing so tightly, and her other hand petting Chistery moves jerkily; it irritates the monkey and he pushes himself off her lap, but stays close next to her. She runs her fingers over the handle of the broom, fits her hand in a slight dip in the wood worn smooth by her grasping it in the same spot for the past three or four years. It's an almost reverent gesture; slowly, without her realizing it, her posture becomes slightly more relaxed, like she's re-grown a lost appendage of hers or something of the like.

Elphaba is almost relieved. Now she has herself a way out should something happen. And she is slightly uplifted for the moment – but brought down again by the nagging phantom in her mind urging her to realize the capacity Fiyero could have to send her life plunging to further ruin. Halfheartedly, she wishes she were alone, but argues with herself that if he had indeed meant to kill her he could have done so already many times over, and with an audience, no less, had he tried a few hours ago. Though every fiber of her being cries out for her to keep him shut out, she can't keep herself from wanting so badly to trust him.

But no, of course not. She won't risk leaving herself open and vulnerable to any more pain. She's had enough pain. And trust is something she can't freely place in anyone anymore. She cinches restraints tighter around her aching heart, doing her best to leave it with no sliver of space to lend to Fiyero.

She has no idea how badly she will lose the battle to keep herself so suppressed.

Fiyero doesn't know what to say. He's afraid he'll seem too forward if he outright asks her to take him with her. If he did it would make her refuse him completely. But if he doesn't do something…he'll lose her all over again.

He swallows hard; he won't impose himself on her anymore when she doesn't want him there.

"You should go, Elphaba. They'll have this city crawling with soldiers in a few more hours. I got you this far. I – I don't think I'll be of much use to you anymore." he says softly, getting to his feet and succumbing to an old nervous habit, running his hand through his hair. He looks out, away from the City, carefully avoiding her eyes. He doesn't expect her to look at him anyway. She stands as well, in silence for long, echoing silent seconds, and speaks up.

"'Go'? Go where? For so long, my life's been here, in this City. I don't know much of anywhere else. And anyway-" She gives a short, self-deprecating laugh. "If no one else gives a damn, why should I? They'll only weed me out eventually. I'm not exactly inconspicuous." Her voice is hollow, her gaze blank as it stares out to the horizon. She hurts, but the cinches on her heart don't do much for that. Of course there's always room for pain.

"Don't say that." he replies. He wonders how she could ever think of herself that way.

"If they catch you, they'll kill you, won't they?" she asks in that same flat tone.

He stares out again for a moment, and answers quietly, "I'll probably be given a trial first, but, eventually…" he sighs, "Yes, most likely they'll have me executed." They are both quiet; it's the first time Fiyero has actually thought about the possible consequences of his flight with Elphaba. He would die alongside her, if they were to be caught. The heavy realization settles like cold stone in the pit of his stomach. Maybe…maybe they'd get lucky, maybe…

She looks at him, her eyes wide open and sad, not realizing what her face is showing him. No one should have to hurt because of her. It makes Fiyero nervous and sad and almost happy at the same time, the look on her face. On impulse, he reaches out to her and gently slides his hand down her arm until his fingers tangle with hers. She tenses, but only for a split second, and then her hand tightens around his. She turns her face away, but lets her arm rest against his side. He smiles at her and disentangles his hand so he can bring his arm to encircle her back. She lets him, but suddenly it makes her uneasy, and after a moment or two, trembling in his embrace, she pulls away.

"Can…can that thing carry two?" he asks haltingly, gesturing at the broom; he puts his faith in her and the expression he'd seen her give him, and hopes with all his heart that she'll say yes.

Slowly, she nods.

**

* * *

**

**A/N: Hello everyone!Yes, I know,this chapter was rawther short. Bear with me. They will get longer. Between losing my patience with my other fic (I wrote and rewrote the damn thing twice and either I'm stupid and don't know how to save things correctly or all my disks are defective, but both times I tried to save it I lost the entire eight or none pages of it and ended up wanting to strangle something) and the ever-so-annoyingpresent-tense grammar in this one, I figured I'd post it and get it overwith before I edited it so much it started to sound nothing like I'd intended it to. But anyway, ****I get my life -and my computer- back tomorrow, soyou'll be hearing from me abit more often. Thanks again for reading,  
Linz**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

Glinda remains staring down the hallway after Fiyero and Elphaba for a moment longer, breathing in deeply, shakily. Her lungs hurt a little from fighting to hold back the tremors of a silent sob. She waits for calm to wash over her just long enough to gain control and kick feeling to the back of her mind. She can't afford to focus on such trivial things as emotions just now.

"Here. Take a swig of this. It dulls the pain."

She turns around. The Wizard is sitting on the front little platform of his gold head, holding out to her a green flask filled with some sort of liquid. Glinda thinks she's seen something of the like before, but she can't place where she recognizes the thing from; must've been years ago. Nevertheless, she knows enough to be suspicious of it.

"No, thank you." she says, voice carefully flat. There is a sound of heels on marble again, and shortly Madam Morrible, the Wizard's new press secretary and former headmistress of Shiz University, an older woman with gaudy and eccentric taste in clothing, sweeps her way into the chamber, laughing, through the opposite hall across from where the fugitives had fled. The sound, hyena-esque, is perversely jovial. Glinda knows at whose expense the laughter has been paid. And she's not even sure she cares anymore.

"So, is it true?" Morrible asks her, a wolfish, toothy smile splitting her face, "Your betrothed has taken her into custody?" Glinda says nothing, and stares at the woman through hard blue eyes.

"I'm afraid our new Captain of the Guard had other plans." The Wizard answers for her, getting to his feet, but leaving the bottle where he had been sitting. Morrible's face falls, molding itself into an incredulous angry countenance. He did _not_ just tell her such a thing.

"You mean she hasn't been captured?"

"Quite the contrary. And considering how well she eluded us last time…"

The Wizard and his press secretary continue to bicker back and forth. Glinda pays them no attention. She feels the hurt seep into her muscles, making her chest ache, echoing through her in resonant beats. She wants to collapse into a heap of extravagant petticoats and hot tears, but yet she holds it bottled up in that petite body, letting it roil in her stomach like acid…

And it eats away at her, like acid. Her breathing speeds some, becomes heavier. She doesn't think she can hold any love in her heart for Fiyero and Elphaba anymore. She hates them. She hates them both for leaving her with nothing but a sea of nameless faces, the people of a country she cares very little for. She only needs that sea to slake her thirst for attention - Oz has no other purpose for her.

The only thing she asked of Fiyero was that he try to love her. Was that too hard for his stunted brain to comprehend? And Elphaba, where did she get off leaving the Palace with him? Did Glinda's taking pity on her and giving her a chance mean nothing? Why, if it hadn't been for Glinda, Elphaba would still be some hopelessly friendless student trying to muddle her way through school on smarts alone. Ha, like _that _would've gotten the green girl anywhere. Her thoughts race by, yet she's not really registering any of them. It takes a small eternity for the inundation of hate to slow, and as her breathing begins to slow back to normal her hatred begins to burn off.

_:How could they…:_ she thinks hollowly; her thoughts slow down from a feverish rush to a river flooded by unshed tears. Somewhere pushed away inside her she truly doesn't want to believe what she'd been telling herself about her friends, but she is a public figure, and, like many things in the lives of politicians, the smallest bit of sentiment for Fiyero and Elphaba had to be ignored for the time being. The Wizard would be counting on her to help him and his people find the Witch. Glinda could hardly refuse them information, lest the Wizard see fit to kick that "Good Witch" pedestal out from under her feet and watch her fall, to shatter like glass upon the City's green paving stones.

Glinda seethes a little longer, or tries to seethe, watching the Wizard and his second squabble over what would be the best way to get hold of Elphaba. The hurt tightening her chest feels worse and runs deeper than the rage she'd felt before, an it motivates her more to get revenge on the two escapees. She shouldn't have to feel that sort of pain. _She _hasn't done anything wrong.

She hesitates a moment, wanting to cut into the Wizard's and Morrible's conversation and tell them how to bag their witch. It would be a fitting revenge on the green turncoat and her new lover, and would ensure Glinda's station in the Wizard's regime at the same time.

But…this is Elphaba…Glinda couldn't turn her in…

Yes, 'but'. 'But' forget it. It's either protect someone not worth protecting, or look out for her own skin; and when you're dealing with a man like the Wizard, her own skin is enough to look after. The choice is clear…isn't it?

"Her sister."

Morrible and the Wizard turn their heads to look at her; they hadn't been expecting Glinda to interrupt. To tell the truth, they'd completely forgotten she was still in the room.

"What?" Morrible asks.

Glinda steps forward, the hurt coiled in her body helping to build up her courage and resolve. "Use her sister. Spread a rumor. Make her think her sister is in trouble and she'll fly to her side…" She pauses, uneasy. But she can't stop now. They would notice her hesitation to disclose what she knows, and they might suspect she's giving them false information. The Wizard could have her life if they assume she's turned traitor. She swallows, and wipes her face clear of the sudden pang of regret. She's fairly sure it won't last long.

"…And you'll have her."

A sly smile spreads it's way over Madam Morrible's face, her eyes slightly narrowed, and she folds her arms, glances to the Wizard. The man grins wolfishly, pleased with her answer.

"Exactly so." he says.

"Now, if Your Ozness will excuse me I have a slight headache. I think I'll lie down." Glinda lies easily, her voice flat and unreadable. You have to be able to speak in such a way when you're life's become so public. At that point she'd have done anything to get her out of that chamber, away from those sadistic smiles. They're so pleased at the prospect of catching and killing a woman they know is innocent; it makes her slightly sick to her stomach, no matter how much she hates the woman they want to dispose of. In a whirl of blue skirts and blonde curls, she turns on her heel and walks as calmly as she can out of the room.

She makes her way back outside, where her guests are no doubt waiting for her. Forcing a false smile onto her face, Glinda pushes the door open and is met with a wave of people, bombarding her with questions; "Where'd you go/What's happening/This is a lovely soiree, isn't it/Where is your fiancé?…" And on and on and on. She hears very little of it, but speaks to them all as if nothing is wrong. All the while she tries to convince herself that she is in the right, that she's done the right thing by turning in the back-stabbers…hasn't she?

Well, in any case, she can't really afford to think on that now. Her people are expecting a party, and she has to put on a brave face...even if it is more so for herself than for them. But as the ball drags on, she keeps trying to convince herself that helping the Wizard bag his witch will, in the end, do nothing horribly wrong. Elphaba _had_ betrayed her, anyway, so, what did Glinda have to care about? She had done nothing but secure her place in his court, and that, certainly, was a noble and valuable thing to pursue. More valuable than the life of a wanted criminal, at any rate.

_:How can you say that:_ some tiny voice in the back of her mind screeches. She ignores it. Elphaba's dead to her.

Madam Morrible watches Glinda leave; the second the blonde's back turns away the smile leaves the older woman's face. Once Glinda is certain to be out of earshot, she turns back to the Wizard.

"Yes, well, she may have given us half of our answer, but a rumor alone won't do it. Elphaba's too smart for that. She could see through it too easily."

"She's far too smart, no thanks to you."

Morrible flashes the evil eye at the Wizard. "You could actually put your mind to this problem for once, couldn't you? That green witch-girl is more your problem now than she is mine, you know."

"I didn't take you up as a partner for you to tell me what to do with myself. You're the scheming one, Morrible, you figure it out."

"Lazy son of a…" the woman mutters under her breath, looking at the Wizard as if he were something distasteful on the bottom of her eccentrically decorated shoe. The man shoots her a glare but makes no move to shut her up. He just renews his interest in that little green bottle of his, and takes another swallow of whatever's in it. She looks out the window at the first hint of sunset coming up in a slim rosy stripe hugging the horizon, staring blankly at it, her mind working furiously. A wisp of cloud drifts lazily through the sky, it's edge just skimming the bottom of a sun that's still relatively high for mid afternoon. And it hits her. It isn't another three seconds before that old sly smile is back again, this time, with more teeth.

"Perhaps, a change in the weather…"

"What?" the Wizard asks skeptically. "That'll take at least two weeks to build up into something powerful enough to do anything for us! By then the two of them could be out of Oz for good!"

"Oh, but you forget, sir, that weather magic is my specialty. It'll have them back in our hands before the week is out." Her smile and the rabid satisfaction in her eyes intensifies, and with the first wave of her hand, distant thunder rumbles somewhere far off; but just how far off, they have yet to learn.

* * *

**A/N: Eeeewww I know it's short...I'm sorry! I've got the next chapter in progress already. This one's coming so much easier than that damn chapter 44 of NAG... :sigh: Anyway, rr please, and I'll love you forever!**

**-Linz-**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"You're sure this thing'll hold?" Fiyero asks Elphaba, looking skeptically down at the broom again, despite her assurance that without a doubt it would be able to carry them both.

"I've told you four times, I'm not going to let you fall." she replies flatly, speaking only out of necessity. She gives the monkey a scratch behind his ear to give herself an excuse not to focus on Fiyero. Though she's agreed to let him come with her, she's fallen back into her former unreadable state. Just in case, she keeps her voice and face emotionless, her movements controlled and neutral. She still feels the need to protect herself, though from what, now, she isn't sure. Despite the way she's back in charge of herself, she feels more vulnerable than she ever has in her entire life, and can find no explanation for it. She mounts the broom and is about to beckon for Fiyero to do so as well, but suddenly stops herself; she's not sure she wants him holding onto her the entire flight. But she won't turn her back on him now. She would be as good as handing him his death sentence if she did.

"Here, come behind me." she says, haltingly gesturing for him to follow her. She feels his arms circle her waist and she stiffens without meaning to.

"I, uh, I'm sorry…" Fiyero stammers, about to pull his arms away, but she stops him.

"No, no, it's okay. You really have no choice but to hold on. Besides, I'd never forgive myself if I let anything happen to y-" She cuts herself off, hastily turning her face away. She can feel a bit of a blush creeping into her cheeks, wondering if she's revealed too much. No, she doesn't think so. She does owe him for saving her sorry carcass, after all. But still, despite how kindly he's been treating her, something inside her still fears him... or if not Fiyero himself, it's the possibility that she'll drive him away. The prospect of another rejection, especially by this man, of all people, has the potential to hurt more than anything else she's felt in a long time. And that's the last thing she wants.

"I'll steer, you tell me where to go. It should be just about dark enough by now to get out of here without being seen. Are you ready?"

"Alright…now or never." Fiyero replies, bracing himself. He feels his feet lift away from the ground, and his heart throws itself into his throat, beating with a desperate vengeance. "Elphaba, I don't like this…" he groans, doing his best not to look down, though they're not yet even fifteen feet from the ground.

She smiles a little to herself; he who's already risked his life to get her away from the Wizard –or so she hopes-- can't deal with heights. She finds it oddly funny that she can do something he can't; she's always seen him as a being so much higher than herself, and it's strange to her, even a little empowering. But still, she feels badly that he's scared of the flight she enjoys so much.

"I would tell you to keep your eyes shut, but you have to tell me where to go, don't you? Just hold on, then. That's the best I can do for you. Get ready, we're going up."

Fiyero's heart plunges from his throat to somewhere around the very bottom of his feet. The way she's making the broom shoot up above the clouds isn't exactly settling his stomach, either. And he'd thought the initial liftoff had been bad.

"Did you have to make it go so _fast_?" he moans, tightening his arms around her waist from the complete and utter terror of falling off. She tries her hardest to ignore the feeling, but being as rude and intrusive as the damned sensation is, she remains all too aware of his arms around her.

"I wanted to get behind cloud cover – this way, it's less likely we'll be seen." Despite herself, she's trying not to grin at his fear. It just strikes her as so uncharacteristic of Fiyero for him to be afraid of anything. "Can I ask where we're going?"

"Great Gillikin Forest."

She doesn't ask why, just nods once, and adjusts the direction more towards northeast.

"Stay well between the towns along the train line when we - " Fiyero's voice cuts off with a slightly strangled noise; the wind is picking up, and as it buffets the broom his stomach begins to roil.

Elphaba, on the other hand, lives for this. The wind whips her face, cold and invigorating. She is in her element, and laughs from the sheer thrill of flight. The air wraps itself around her, and just for a moment, she can forget what passed in the last few hours. Chistery weaves around the broom, swooping in wide arcs through the air, screeching in animal joy. In a way, she feels like the little creature, though venting her delight and release in another way. She speeds up the broom's pace through the air, completely disregarding the fact that Fiyero is clinging to her waist for dear life, and her laughter elevates itself. How long has it been since she'd felt like this? Sweet Oz, it feels so good to let go…

Fiyero's never really heard her laugh before. It sounds strange as it falls upon his ears - not bad-strange, but unusual, out of character. And he enjoys it in all its unexpected levity. Now, if only his feet were safely back on solid ground…!

* * *

"Finally…" Fiyero breathes as he tumbles from the broom onto the grass. It hasn't yet been thirty seconds since they've touched down and he's already sprawled himself out on the ground, relishing the feeling of being back on land. Once his heartbeat and breathing return to normal, which takes awhile, he raises himself up onto his elbows and hastily brings himself to sit like a normal person. She's looking at him and shaking her head, not smiling but not looking down upon him either. He offers her a sheepish grin, a bit embarrassed. She looks away and watches Chistery dive-bomb a tree a little ways off, and disappear into its branches and leaves. Why did she insist on being so hard to read?

He closes his eyes for a moment, figuring that he's not exactly helping her trust him by staring at her, as if he's been documenting her every move. She gets that enough on a regular basis, so it's the last thing she needs right now from someone who claims to be helping her. That drowsy moment quickly turns into an hour spent dozing with his back propped against a tree. When he wakes, she is sitting beside him, her eyes open just the barest crack, and he's leaning sideways against her. She doesn't realize that he's woken until he pulls himself up off her shoulder. Embarrassed again, he runs his fingers through his hair; so goes the Triumph of the Automatic Nervous Habit.

"Sorry…"

She offers a tentative half smile as she tries to blink herself awake. "It's alright."

"So, uh, where are we? We can't have arrived that fast." He is clueless. For most of the flight he'd completely disregarded her request that he watch their progress and tell her where to go, and kept his eyes shut.

"We're actually closer than I thought we would be at this point. The forest we're in right now is somewhere near that town, what's it called…? Tenniken, I think?" she replies, voice void of most all emotion.

"Wow, if you're right then we've only got somewhere around, what, four or five hours left, weather permitting. I'm just guessing, I mean, I'm not used to the whole broom thing, being as I'm terrified of it and everything, but you seem to be so at home, uh, while you're flying, so I guess you'd probably be the better one to ask about the time that's left - " He catches himself babbling and stills his tongue. Could he possibly make himself look any denser? If nothing else, though, his tripping over his words is getting her to smile some.

"No, I think your guess is about right, time-wise." she replies, casting a fleeting glance at his face. A corner of her mouth quirks upward. She finds herself relaxing, but isn't sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing, though it now seems highly unlikely he'd still be trying to harm her. Anyway, if he was indeed still after her, however far-fetched that may be, it wouldn't matter what she said. She'd be dead no matter which way she looked at it.

It doesn't take her long to decide to let herself relax. She's been reduced to fugitive criminal status, so there's not exactly much else for her to lose, aside from her life. And at this point, she's not even sure if even that would be worth fighting for any longer.

Besides, a friend would be a nice thing to have right about now.

"Thank you, for helping me out." she says, making herself look at him. The fact that she's looking him in the eye catches him completely off guard, and it takes him a moment to register her words.

"Huh? – Oh, uh, you're welcome…" he replies. He doesn't know what else to say, and trails off, leaving her with awkward silence. For some reason, they both feel the need to fill it. Neither can stand the empty stillness.

"We're both kind of in the same boat, aren't we?" he says, offering her a half smile.

"I suppose so." she sighs, "And you have just about the same chance as I do of finding somewhere safe to stay, huh?" She looks out through the trees, towards the new rosy blush of a sunrise. "There's nothing we can do about it, is there?" He nods once, face blank. There's a pause while she fights with herself over whether or not to go on. "So, um, I guess I'll have to get used to having company again…?" She wants to ask herself if that would be such a bad thing after all, but rather than face that posed question and the blush that will probably accompany her answer, she pushes it away, forcing herself to ignore it. But her face betrays her and flushes some anyway.

"Uh…yeah." His voice is uneasy as he catches the blush creeping through her cheeks, figuring that she's not terribly comfortable with the prospect of staying so near him. "I – I'll go, after we get there, if you want to be left - "

"No, it's not you. It might be better, actually, to stay in the same vicinity. The Forest's not exactly the most human-friendly place in Oz…"

"Don't I know it." he replies.

"You've been there?"

"With the Force, yes."

"Oh." He sees her stiffen at the mention of the Wizard's guard, and can practically feel her shrinking away, though she doesn't give him any visible motion to base that on.

_:No, not now! Don't back away now, Elphaba, please…: _Desperately he grabs at anything that might make her keep talking to him.

"I managed to get myself to the head of the search for you and the Wizard had sent me to look in the Forest a few times. I wanted so badly to find you - "

_:You've screwed things up again, Fiyero, you idiot! Why'd you have to say that:_

That doesn't sound good to her…she's always been the first one to anticipate the worst, and this instance is no different. Her face falls and her breaths come with a strained, slow evenness as she forces composure on herself. An unanticipated rush of fear and hurt and betrayal washes through her veins as somewhere deep inside, her heart feels as if it's collapsing in on itself. She doesn't even know why she cares so much. To a degree, she's expected it, hasn't she? She understands the fact that there would've been pain one way or another, no matter who chased her down, but why does it hurt as badly as it does?

Why does it matter so much to her that Fiyero, a man she can't even say she ever really knew, is saying these things? The tone of his words isn't arrogant or triumphant, but still…

* * *

_:Dammit, Fiyero, way to make things worse:_ He mentally whacks himself upside the head.

"No! No, that's not what I meant! I never wanted to catch you, exactly. But I wanted to know you were somewhere I could get to you, alone, without the other Forcers knowing what I was really - "

_:Give up man, just give up, before you scare her away.:_ Fiyero tells himself as he realizes how perverted those last words of his must've sounded.

"I'm really screwing this up aren't I?" he sighs dejectedly, finally resigning himself to his failure – his irrepressible talent for jumbling words strikes again. Why does he always falter around her? His school days of sweet-talking his way out of skirmishes with authority are a good four plus years gone; he's out of practice there. Besides, he can't put his finger on why she's so intimidating all of a sudden. If anything, she's probably more intimidated by him that he is by her. And there go his fingers, raking themselves through his hair for the umpteenth time. The stupid habit never fails.

"I'm not the one to ask." she says, and hesitates for a moment when he doesn't reply. "I can't say I even know who you are, Fiyero. How can I possibly answer you?" There's a slight hint of sadness in her tone, but he's too preoccupied with his own stupidity to realize it. Elphaba herself, on the other hand, is all too aware of that sadness. She hates with a fiery passion the fact that she's unknowingly allowed such a lapse in her control. She who has always known who she is in relation to the rest of the world, has lost her grip on this young soldier. He confuses her somewhat. His speech contradicts how he's been showing himself to her.

He is silent for an instant, hovering on the edge of his control. Should he try to explain, or is he so far gone he has no hope of getting through to her any longer?

"Can…can I try again?"

He's not the confident boy Elphaba used to recognize from school anymore. In fact, he's just the opposite, more like she herself had been, insecure and nervous, than himself.

"I suppose." is her reply, curt and dispassionate. But she screams inside with a shameful need to hear him tell her something, _anything_, than what she's just heard.

And explain he does. He stumbles and stutters and takes forever, but he manages to put it in terms she doesn't recoil from. Sometimes throughout his monologue she wants to smile at his awkwardness, let him know she identifies. And a few rare times, she does give him that diminutive sympathetic smile. They boost his self-assurance just enough to help him get over his nervousness at least a little, and stem the flow of stammers towards the end.

"Better?" he asks, waiting the agonizing seconds for her to answer.

She nods. "Much."


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N: hello again :) Alright, this will probably be my last update until September, on account of computer trouble at home. And since it's been taking me awhile to crank these out, I doubt I'll have another chapter finished before June 10, when classes end. I can't post after then, cuz the computer lab's closed during finals. Anyway, enjoy (i'm sowwee it's so short!)  
always,  
-Linz-_**

* * *

Elphaba waits through the days, waits for her underlying fears to subside, for herself to warm up to Fiyero's company, for some small sense of security to wrap its arms around her. However, security is not forthcoming. Yes, in the past three days Fiyero's gotten easier to talk to, and she isn't nearly as wary of him as she used to be, but something still feels off. She can't relax, not fully anyway. It's as if someone is still watching her, breathing down her neck, waiting for her to make a mistake. She sits with her legs tucked underneath her long black skirts, staring skywards at the interweaving canopies above her.

"Hey," Fiyero asks, shaking her from her silence. "What's the matter?" He drops rather gracelessly to the ground beside her. It's taken him less time to get used to her presence than she has to his, as is made apparent by the casual manner in which he holds himself, the familiar informality of his words. She's more reluctant to expose herself that way, though it definitely has become easier for her to make herself converse a bit with him. It's not the sort of thing she's particularly keen on getting used to, but it's not as if she has much of a choice, either.

"Nothing's wrong."

"Something's definitely up. I've been irritating the monkey for the past fifteen minutes and you haven't once looked up to tell me to knock it off." He replies, giving a halfhearted smile that can't quite conceal the suspicion and concern in his eyes. "You're not saying much today. You were kind of sort of maybe almost talkative yesterday. What happened?"

"I never talk that much to begin with. Yesterday was a freak accident." she says, unable to keep the dry comment from escaping her mouth.

"Don't beat around the bush. I know you're not one to do that. What's wrong? You're…different, somehow. You're hiding again."

"It's nothing important, really. I was just thinking."

"Be careful, Elphaba, think too much and your brain'll start to hurt." he says, his goal to lighten her expression a little.

"What is that, some residual personality from your Shiz days?" she asks, the comment just as dry as the former one. He continues on, choosing to ignore her sarcasm.

"No, I'm serious. What's been going through your head? It can't be anything trivial if you keep acting all shady like you just were." He settles himself in next to her, making it pretty clear that he won't be moving any time soon. "I can't exactly tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about. Unless you count Chistery or a tree or something." His words bring a slight curve to her mouth, an expression that so seldom alights on her face. He can see it sometimes in her eyes, always in her eyes, in the shy, fleeting instant before she averts her gaze from his face.

But all too soon the smile fades, and she speaks up.

"Something's…I can't place it, and I can't pinpoint why, but something's definitely off, not normal, for lack of a better word." Her focus turns inward and her eyes grow vacant as she gazes with a blank stare into Fiyero's face. She looks not at him, exactly, but past him, past who he is, to the details surrounding how he's come to be sitting here with her, involved in an almost-conversation.

He sees the look in her eyes, and begins to get nervous. He'd thought she'd gotten past the whole shrink-away-from-all-contact-with-this-man stage of the game by now. After all, she's spent the better part of four days with him already.

"Like…like how? Is it me or – I don't know…"

"No! No, of course it's not you," she assures, the words pouring out in an apprehensive rush. She can't allow herself to push him away. She's wanted this for a long time, hasn't she? And now that he's here, paying attention to her, she can't understand why all of a sudden this situation feels like the very antithesis of everything she is and has come to be.

_:Stop being an idiot, girl. You know better than to let some far-fetched wish beat you.:_ her head tells her, and she forlornly accepts it as truth, resolving not to let her stupid childish hopes get in the way of what she knows she can't have.

"Then what?"

"I told you, I don't know what it is."

He shrugs, easing himself backwards so he's propped up on his elbows, almost laying down on his back. "Maybe it's the weather. Something in the air, you know? A storm on the horizon."

She nods, not quite convinced. "Could be." She doubts that could be what's wrong; the gorgeous watercolor sunset isn't exactly doing anything to help prove Fiyero's inference. "It's so pretty." She murmurs, staring into the sky. Her heart smolders inside, sick with jealousy. She's never believed that the sky she so loves could ever make her feel so inferior. It seems to scream at her _:You are an eyesore:_, throwing the terrible fact in her face, flaunting its superior beauty. The warm rosy stripes painting the heavens could never look as lovely anywhere else, just as green looks so out of place on anything else but grass. Elphaba averts her eyes. She can't stand to look at the sunset anymore. She tries to fight off the sensation of building tears, and a headache begins to take shape behind her eyes. But a few glittering droplets succeed in breaking through her barriers. They slide down her face, testimony to her desperate desire to save herself from any more pain. But, oh, the pain she causes herself surpasses all.

Fiyero notices. "Elphaba, what…?" he doesn't know what to say. Instead, he keeps his mouth shut and pushes himself up, moving to wipe the tears from her face. In the haze of liquid clouding her vision, she doesn't even notice him until his hand brushes her cheek. It startles her and she tries to disengage herself from his touch, stuttering nonsense words in fright and grief and an unmistakable need to tell him everything, yet forget he ever existed.

Something finally snaps, after all this time, and all decorum and resolve and everything she's made herself feel and see and believe for so many long years is shot to hell. She sobs, curling in on herself as her world collapses around her. She is still as solitary as ever, not searching for help or comfort, just the inward solace she's never succeeded in finding before.

Fiyero watches her cry. He hurts for her, wants to make her stop. He's had no idea until now how someone could be so strong and so broken all at once. She was always so together, always knew who she was. But now, it's as if she's realized that the person she thought herself to be never truly existed at all.

"No, no, Elphaba, shhh…it's alright, shhh." He feels terrible, wanting desperately to help her but not knowing how. He reaches out, and she lets herself be drawn into his arms, to overwhelmed to realize what she's doing or even care anymore.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N:** I'm ba-a-ack:does happy dance: This took me since MAY to write; I've been slaving over paper and pencil for months for you guys! (C'mon, you know I missed you guys!) Be patient - the rest of the unfinished fics are yet to come.:grabs giant cartoon mallet and beats stories into submission: I'm working on them. _

_**note to Viva-Taquitos** - Nov. 1. Be there, hun. How much longer till then?...lol_

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Fiyero pulls Elphaba's hair out of its customary knot at the nape of her neck, not really realizing what he's doing. It spills down her back in long black waves, and he runs his fingers through it. As his hand skims over her back, he can feel her slight body shaking from the silent sobs she's been trying in vain to hold back. For the most part, no sound escapes her mouth, aside from the rare gasp she can't control.

"Calm down, shhh." he murmurs, his mouth resting against the top of her head. He wishes there was something else for him to say; from his perspective, he hasn't done much to put her at ease, or at least, what passes for at ease in Elphaba. It's very awkward, where he is right now, but at the same time he thinks it's kind of nice, in some twisted way. He's glad she hasn't pulled away, but he wonders how long it will last. So for now, he continues stroking her hair, and hopes that she'll warm up to him.

She hasn't the slightest idea how long he's been holding her. To be absolutely truthful, if she'd really let herself feel, she wouldn't care. For the last heavens know how long her tears have been falling, soaking his shoulder. The violent tremors lancing through her have in turn been shaking him. But he's been patient. He's let her use his shirt to dry her eyes each time she's needed to. She's trembled but he's held her all the same. And he's never faltered. He hasn't yet stopped tracing slow rhythmic circles on her back. She is grateful for both his presence and his patience.

Eventually she feels herself quieting. It's slow coming, but all the same the sobs start to lessen in frequency. The tears take longer to cease, continuing in their descent down her face even after the shaking stops. She is exhausted. A mild ache settles deep into her bones and she seems to sag a little, her face still pressed to his shoulder.

But all too soon, as she rests with Fiyero, reality begins to squeeze at her lungs, forcing the breath from her chest. Her heart pounds, like a bird throwing itself against the bars of its cage. She knows she can't stay here, like this. She knows it won't last. Worst of all, she knows she'll get hurt. She's walked right into the treacherous waiting arms of the very situation she'd intended to at all costs avoid.

A last dry sob escapes her. She feels his lips move against her hair as she tries to tear herself away. "It's okay, Elphaba. Everything's okay…" His voice is quiet, holding warmth she's never heard from anyone else before. She wants so badly to stay just where she is for as long as she possibly can, but her traitorous common sense reasons away all desires. She shouldn't kid herself. It will only make things harder in the end.

"No, no it's not, It's not okay. It'll never be…" she stammers, voice breaking as she pushes herself away from him. Averting her eyes and wiping last remnants of tears from her skin, she stumbles backward, tucks her loose hair behind her ears, and waits for the hollow ache in her chest to go away.

"I can't stay here. I'm going to put you in more danger that you're already in, I'm -" With clumsy, tired hands she goes to gather up her broom and the small bag she always wears slung across her chest. "You stay here, before I - ruin - something else."

"What are you talking about?" Fiyero asks, standing and following her. He doesn't want her to go. He's come to enjoy her company, loves her quick wit, the shy way she avoids speaking about herself or even to him at all unless he asks her to, everything. He can't let her slip away. "You can't go out there by yourself! It's way too dangerous for someone to walk through these trees alone -"

"I've lived the better part of my life taking care of myself. What makes you think I won't be able to manage it this time? What makes you think it'll be any different?" she shoots back at him, back turned, trying to make the ice in her voice mask her desperate sadness. He catches up to her as she goes to leave and grabs her wrist swinging at her side. Gently he pulls her hand and she turns with it, standing in front of him but turning her face the other way.

"Let go of me." she murmurs. She can't bring herself to look at him.

"What's up? What's the matter?" he asks, keeping his tone relatively soft and bringing his hand up to push a few wayward strands of black silk behind her ear. He won't let go of her. She turns her face again, refusing to let him touch her cheek. She breaks free of his grip, wrenching her arm away and turning her back on him once more. The motion is sharp – it's to keep her gaze from lingering on his face. She can't bear to look at him still. He is only one more among thousands, a world of people and loathing, closing in and robbing her of the little things she used to love. Like the sky. Pain resonates throughout, tired and helpless. Love has always hurt, but this goes beyond just hurt. This puts most everything she's ever felt to shame.

"Look, I know I'm not wanted here. It's no different from anywhere else I've been or anyone else I've known, and it makes no difference to – you know what? Forget I said anything. It doesn't matter." No, of course it doesn't.

Fiyero can't stand the sight of her so hurt. How could she convince herself of such things? He calls after her in a last-ditch effort to try and get her to stay.

"I want you here."

She freezes, stiffening. _:How can he expect me to believe…:_ The thought is interrupted when he comes to stand close behind her. Her breath catches as she feels his hands fall light upon her shoulders, sliding down her arms until his palms cover the backs of her hands. His fingers lace themselves through hers. She is terribly aware of how his chest touches her back. Why does she all of a sudden find herself afraid all over again? He wants her here; she should be happy. And she is happy, but fears that if she lets herself feel…what will happen next? Gently she disentangles her hands from his, and turns to face him.

Fiyero looks at her, really sees her now. The shy eyes, guarded words, nervous hands, silent hidden strength, and the fathomless emptiness where she lacks the companionship she so longs for. He thinks…he thinks he might love her. But he's afraid to say. Instead, he takes a different approach.

"I told you that…that I want you with me. But…what about you?" This time he's the one to shift his gaze. Her stare has become intense. "I'll…I'm sorry, I'm being too forward, I…" _:Heavens, I'm botching this beyond belief…:_ is his only frustrated thought.

She bites her lip, looks up at him. Her eyes glitter. He is so beautiful, and he wants her… She knows, somehow she knows he means what he says, and above all she wants to be with him, no matter how much her head tells her otherwise.

"Fiyero…" He nods, running his fingers through his hair. He's never been so nervous before.

I…want to stay here…with you."

He looks at her, a little dazed. Has he heard that correctly? Thank whatever powers that be he recovers fairly quickly from the shock. "Wow, and I was bracing myself for something on the complete other end of the spectrum!" he says without really thinking, then realizes the error of his speech. "I mean, you – you're sure? You want…me?" The words are hurried, but start to fade at the end, unsure. She offers a lukewarm smile; for once she's not the one tripping over her tongue. She turns her face away, shy again, but the smile remains.

"I do." Is her quiet response. It's hard for her to say, to let her guard down like this. But it's worth it.

A dopey grin spreads across his face, and her tentative smile stretches a little wider. "I'm glad." He says softly, but his beautiful blue eyes are relieved as his smile mutes itself to that of quiet joy.

She nods. "Me, too."

* * *

The grass rustles, swaying in the light breezes that herald the coming of early summer. Mottled sunlight makes the green shades of the ground shift and dance around each other, dappling the bodies of the black-clad woman staring into space and the still-groggy man striding toward her.

"Hey," Fiyero says. It startles Elphaba from her reverie. She turns her head to see him and smiles. She smiles more readily now, he notices.

"Morning." she answers as he drops down beside her. He lets his gaze linger a moment on her face. Only two days have passed since they arrived in the forest, and already he can see the small changes manifesting themselves in her demeanor.

"My, aren't we all bright and chipper this morning." His words, though they jest, drip with sarcasm. He yawns. "Sun and stars, when did you wake up?"

"Two hours ago."

"Is it just me, or do you _enjoy_ being sleep-deprived?" he laughs.

"I've always woken up early. Mostly I just sit and watch the sunrise." The sky seems kinder now, in a way. However, she casts her eyes down, acknowledging with a pang of sadness that she can never hope to possess even a fraction of its loveliness. Her fingers thread themselves through the carpet of grass and her fist clenches around the green blades before she brings her gaze back skyward.

The brightness in Fiyero's eyes fades a bit as he watches her stare into the brilliant watercolor hues painting the heavens. "What happened?" he asks, reaching up to brush her cheek with a finger.

"What is it?" Startled, she brings her own hand up to cover the place where his skin touched hers.

He speaks in a voice deep and soft, in tones one might use to calm a skittish young cat. "I don't know. One moment you were smiling into the sunrise, and then all of a sudden your face fell. Something that was there before died."

"Oh," she says in a rush of breath. "No, it's of no importance. When I get lost in thought, I – my face just goes blank, that's all." A muted blush creeps through her skin and she turns her face away, pretending to scan the trees for Chistery to discourage any furthering of the discussion. He can tell she doesn't really wish to be pursued in the matter, so he lets it drop. Something at the back of his mind tells him that whatever it is will rise again eventually.

* * *

The day progresses between them as companionably as possible, though with the advent of the morning's sunrise came the dawning of new waves of doubt that wash through Elphaba's thoughts. Shadows of it blanket her, clawing at her eyes and out her throat whenever she looks to Fiyero or speaks; not through any fault of Fiyero's, but her own self-doubt. It wrenches and tears at her insides until the sky turns to black velvet and the opressive sunlight draws back in favor of the moon.

Chistery pads over to her and stands watching as she rubs beeswax into the handle of her broomstick. Her hand slides easily into the depression formed by years of use, and she pauses with it there for a moment. The monkey takes the opportunity to pat at her arm a few times to grab her attention, and reach for the wax she's been holding.

"You want to try, huh?"

Chistery nods with a vengeance.

"Alright, then, if you must."

The little creature takes the offered wax and uses it to rub an uneven patch on the handle. After a little while he tires of it, hands her back what's left of the stuff, and toddles off in Fiyero's direction. With a heavy sigh Elphaba falls back into a steady rhythm, smoothing out the obnoxious mound of wax Chistery managed to stick to the handle. But as soon as she's resumed her work she is interrupted again as the monkey shoots off to hide behind her back while Fiyero shouts mild obscenities at it.

"What's going on now?" she sighs again, just a bit irritated.

"He stole my apple!" Fiyero points an accusing finger at Chistery, who happens to be holding the incriminating fruit in both hands and munching away contentedly.

"Well, I don't think you'll want it back now." she replies.

"Yeah, well…it's the principle of the thing!" he sputters, glaring at the little thief clambering into Elphaba's lap. Once the monkey's settled himself, she maneuvers her arms around him and continues servicing her broom.

"Where'd the wax come from?"

"There's a broken hive somewhere off to your left. Nothing lived there anymore, so I helped myself to some of what was left of the wax." Her words are brisk, businesslike to match the strokes of her hands over the broom handle. "If I don't do this every so often, the thing starts to splinter. It was old even before I started using it." she finishes, noticing the slightly puzzled look Fiyero's been giving her.

Yet he doesn't stop watching her even after she's satisfied his curiosity, and it's making her more than a little uncomfortable. She endures his stare for as long as she possibly can, then sets both the broom and wax aside.

"Is there any particular reason you're staring at me like a dumbstruck boor?" she says a little too sharply. She is altogether sick of people gawping at her like she's some unfortunate attraction in a freak show. After all these years you'd think she'd be used to it, but that doesn't make it any less of a sensitive subject.

Instead of reacting like she expects him to, Fiyero holds out his hand to her. "Walk with me?" he asks.

Elphaba looks at him with guarded eyes, but takes the hand he offers. As soon as she is on her feet, though, she lets it go and scratches Chistery between the wings.

"That monkey really likes you, doesn't he?"

"I suppose. At least, he seems to. I'm glad of it, at any rate. The wings are my fault." Fiyero gives her another puzzled look. "I was…misled…into casting a spell on the poor thing." she explains. "That must've hurt, growing those wings in so quickly, right little friend?" Chistery curls up in her arms, exposing more of his back for her to scratch. She bestows an affectionate smile upon the creature, and kisses the top of his furry head.

"Lucky monkey."

"Oh, _please_." The dry edge to Elphaba's voice rips into herself more than it does Fiyero. He can't think of anything to say that won't sound like some cheap, stupid cliché.

And so, silence ensues, leaving Elphaba with another unwanted opportunity to lose herself in thought. She can't take this anymore.

"Why?"

"'Why' what?"

"Why are youhere?"

"I'm here because if we didn't get out sorry carcasses out of the City when we did we would've been caught and killed!"

"No, no!" she answers; a note of desperation makes her voice elevate. "Why are _you_ here at all?"

Chistery doesn't like this turn of conversation. The tone Elphaba uses makes him nervous, and he wriggles out of her arms to scamper back in the direction they'd come.

Fiyero hesitates, taking advantage of the short pause to take her in. He hasn't seen Elphaba this tightly wound since they attended Shiz University. It's as if every muscle in her body is a coiled spring straining to be released. It makes him extremely uneasy, and for the briefest instant he considers feeding her a lie; anything to make her stay. Yet the very second it enters his head the notion is dismissed. Better to go out on a limb with the truth than be haunted by a lie.

"I'm here because you are kind and hurting and terribly, terribly brave." he says, almost at a murmur. He waits on bated breath for her reaction.

Her eyes widen. She wasn't expecting this. "I'm afraid I…I don't follow you. I didn't know you, never meant anything to you –"

"Yes, yes you did, Elphaba." She falls silent, and when she says no more, Fiyero goes on. "The Lion cub, and that crazy new professor – you froze everyone but me that day." She nods; she'd never been able to forget it.

"Anyway, I…something happened. I don't know how to explain it, but I guess I started seeing you differently. You didn't seem to think I was stupid, like everyone else did. I didn't realize how much that meant to me until you left for the Emerald City and never came back, and – gods, I sound even more like an idiot every time I open my mouth…" He glances at her; much to his surprise, she's smiling. Her face is flushed, tinges of rose seeping into the green, and her gaze is averted.

"Nice to know I managed to reach _someone_." Her voice is almost bitter, and when she looks up he can see that that the smile doesn't reach her eyes. They're still bright with sadness. "Looks like you're the only one who ever actually listened to me."

"Hey," he says, letting his hand fall to her shoulder and skim down her arm, "One's better than none, isn't it?" His fingers curl themselves around hers and she doesn't hesitate to fit her hand against his. Her eyes grow warmer, a little less sad. Fiyero's hope lifts; he never expected her to respond the way she is.

"Don't tear yourself apart." he tells her. "If people don't bother to see past the face, they're not worth the breath that was wasted on them."

The blush in her cheeks intensifies ever so slightly, and an embarrassed smile curves her lips. "Thanks."

He squeezes her hand. "Don't mention it. Actually, I, uh, I picked that up from you."

"Then I should start taking my own advice, shouldn't I?" she asks. He laughs.

"Anyway, to the subject I wanted to discuss before," Fiyero picks up, "I really think we shouldn't stay in the same place for much longer. Just in case, you know, to be harder to pinpoint in case they've picked up our trail. I'm pretty sure I remember a relatively nice-looking spot a ways off to the west – trees, some sun, birds, more trees, cute little animals, flowers, and did I mention lots and lots of trees?" She laughs. "Anyway, I wanted you to check it out first to make sure it's secluded enough. Last thing we need's for someone to stumble in on us."

"Lead the way." she says, gesturing for him to take the go ahead. He smiles and tugs on her hand.

"You coming, Elphaba,or what?"


End file.
